


thirteen and twenty-six

by livesybaby



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Army AU, Fantasy AU, Fluff, Future AU, Heartbreak, Love, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, SORRY IN ADVANCE LMAOOO, Sci-Fi AU, Smut/Moderate Sexual Content, dystopian au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 13:11:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15171464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livesybaby/pseuds/livesybaby
Summary: Random little sci-fi/futuristic AU that i've been working on. I've never really dabbled in this genre so apologies if it's a bit sh*t.Warnings for Smut (lmao y'all should know me by now) and death of a major character (you might need ice cream and bridget jones after this)This is a one-shot only, you'll see why.





	thirteen and twenty-six

**Author's Note:**

> So as you probably know i've had quite a HIATUS. It was needed, sorry. Hoping that this is my way back into writing full-time meaning that YES (as I keep being asked) my other fics are being worked on at the moment and updates will be sooner rather than later. Hope you all like this one, let me know in the comments or over on twitter @FunGh0ulz :) x

They call him twenty-six, it’s not his name or even his rank but those details are private - held in a top secret file by the men upstairs - on a need to know basis, and me? Well I didn’t really need to know did I? he’s at least four years my junior, though the crows feet in the corners of his eyes and tense frown lines between his bushy brows tell me he’s seen a lot - a lot more than any of the other younger recruits. There’s a softness to his eyes that isn’t visible unless you look for it, behind the scowl and stubble lies the expression of a man that’s tired and worn, but was happy and free once upon a time. He reminds me of my sister, carefree and full of life - she’s waiting back home for me, the brother who probably isn’t ever coming back. It’s not the first promise I’ve broken. 

He cuts his eyes at me when I point out that his top button is undone, it should be threatening and if it were one of the others I might have sentenced him to three days kitchen duty but there’s a playfulness in his eyes that stops me in my tracks and I struggle to hide the way my lips part as he smirks back at me, clearly aware that he’s under my skin already. I stay out of his reach for the next few hours of induction, focusing on showing the other new recruits where they’re supposed to be, I can feel his stare burning into the back of my head and it feels good, I force myself not to look back to where I know he’s standing, I know he can tell. 

He calls me thirteen, as do the rest of them - except he says it in more of a friendly way unlike the other recruits addressing me in a formal manner because I’m the only thing between them and deportation. I remember being one of them, a nineteen year old fresh out of training with my eyes to the skies and aspirations for a brighter future. A few months on this battlefield and they’ll all look as tired as twenty-six, he’s been on the front-line for the best part of a year and though it took him a while to learn his place in the ranks he’s doing better - no longer a scally lad out to cause trouble, instead a dedicated part of the force - at least that’s what his transfer papers say. From the commendations printed all over his character profile it wouldn’t surprise me if he had my job one day, though I don’t plan on getting my head blown off any time soon. 

Each night one of the lads is on watch-duty, sitting outside the camp observing the landscape, fully armed and waiting for any unsuspecting mods to try and creep up on our sleeping crew. It’s not unusual for the rest of us to be woken by the sounds of gunfire ripping through an alien body, the unmistakeable sound of a dying mod screeching. It’s enough to make every hair on your body stand on end, the only thing scarier than a mod zoning in on you is the inhuman sound it makes as the life is ripped from its shell. Twenty-six always finds an excuse to join me on my watch, something about being too wired for sleep or needing a smoke. It’s pleasant company and I quite enjoy listening to him ramble about everything and nothing, it takes me away for a while - takes me back to the village where I grew up, where twenty-six would be my best friend and we’d play football and tell jokes and we wouldn’t be looking over our shoulders for the next attack.

He’s staring one night, I’ve been fluid in conversation about the first time I killed a mod but I can tell he’s zoned out about halfway through. My words trail to an end and he’s still none-the-wiser, gazing dreamily in my direction, tongue wetting his lips slightly before he snaps out of it and mutters a “Sorry, what did you say?” blushing lightly as he worries his lower lip between his teeth. I find myself smiling, not really used to the attention or maybe it’s just that I’ve never been that bothered about it before but I find myself craving the way he loses himself sometimes when we speak, like he’s letting his soul sink into mine, forgetting about the battleground around us and just existing with me like nothing else matters. 

“Has anyone ever told you your eyes are like the sea?” He whispers, almost like he didn’t mean to let the secret fall from his lips. It throws me off guard and my words falter, I don’t bother to pick up where I left off, instead feeling my cheeks warm and try in vain to disguise the smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. I feel like a lovestruck teenager as I whisper a quiet “Never” - watching as his eyes dance with amusement, clearly happy that I’ve not socked him in the jaw for being so forward, I’ve never met another man so open with his feelings, even the lads on the regiment don’t talk so openly about their wives back home, I like it - I like him, especially the way he looks at me like I’m the only thing left on earth that he has a fondness for. “Well they do” He whispers again “Sort of, green and blue… beautiful” It’s his turn to hide his smile, looking down towards his hands, thumb picking away at a loose fibre on his pocket. 

It’s another couple of days before anything happens, I’m almost certain that we both went to sleep with matching grins. I find myself wishing that I had another night duty, his isn’t until Wednesday and I’m craving his comfort so I’m sort-of glad when the water supply runs short and two people need to go refill the tank from the source. Usually I’d send one of the lower ranks to do the dirty work but it seems that twenty-six shares a similar idea when he looks at me with raised eyebrows, I take the hint and volunteer us both, it’s a three day trek and while I should be annoyed that I’m not on the front-line directing my troops I’m ecstatic at the thought of three days alone with twenty-six. 

We’re just over halfway there when we stop for the night, setting up camp in an abandoned aircraft shell out of sight from the track and any patrolling mods. We eat as it starts to darken and by the time we’ve unravelled our sleeping bags the only illumination is from the neon light stick I lay between us, it casts shadows on the inside of the fuselage but not enough to draw attention to our hideout. We lay close to one another, barely a space between us and subconsciously I tell myself it’s a smart move to conserve our body warmth but we both know why we’re here and it only takes a slight tilt of twenty-six’s head before his nose is nudging against mine and the warmth of his breath is dancing with my own. I make the final adjustment, leaning forward until my lips brush against his own and his breath hitches, his hand pawing against my shirt as he tugs me closer. 

I let my tongue sweep against his lower lip, moaning as he allows my tongue to slip into his mouth and bringing my hand up to grip the dark curls at the nape of his neck. He lets out a guttural sound from the base of his throat that vibrates through my body and makes all the blood rush below my belt, he’s clearly had the same effect - I can tell by the way he drags his hard crotch against my upper thigh, holding me in place by his fierce grip on my shirt. My mouth finds its way to his neck, nipping and sucking at his throat and enjoying the way his stubble scratches at my softer skin, letting his skilful fingers fumble their way down my buttons and exposing my flesh to the roughness of his fingertips. 

We’re both naked in seconds, uniform kicked messily along with our boots to the bottom of the shell and if I were in my right mind I might have done a quick risk assessment and kept my gun close but all logic had gone out of the window as I lost myself in the sensation of twenty-six and his hot mouth trailing down my torso, breath tickling the head of my cock before he took me to the hilt. My hands cradle his head, thumb stroking along the stubble of his jawline as I throw my head back in ecstasy, it’s been a long time since anybody touched me in such a way so it’s not surprising that I don’t last as long as I’d hoped, my entire body trembling as I spill over into his mouth - hypersensitive as he sucks until every last drop is sliding down his throat. 

I come round from temporary delirium to the sensation of his teeth against my ear, his warm breath tickling my skin as he talks me down from my high, making my skin rise with goosebumps from the mere sound of his voice. I fall asleep with my head on his bare chest, the sound of his heart beating rhythmically in my ear, comforting and safe - his arms wrapped tightly around me, legs tangled messily underneath the warmth of two sleeping bags. It’s still dark when I wake, filled with an energy I hadn’t felt in a long time - the moon still high in the sky tells me it’s nowhere near morning and turning my head to look at the sleeping man above me I get an idea. 

He’s easy to roll over, a heavy sleeper and he doesn’t even notice when I drag my lips down his back, my tongue dipping in and out of the muscular ridges until I reach his tail-bone, using the hand I’m not leaning on to shove one of his thighs up and out of the way, exposing his arse in such a way that he looks like he belongs in an x-rated film. I nip lightly at the flesh of his cheeks, nuzzling closer and closer to my goal until I let my hands part the crease and expose his gloriously pink hole. I lean forward and flatten my tongue against his opening, dragging upwards until his arse begins to flutter with want. I wet my tongue sufficiently before pushing it past the tight ring of muscle, sliding in with ease in his sleep-soft state. I swirl it around his walls, loosening the tension and burying myself deeper, my nose pushing against his flesh as I dart my tongue in and out messily. It’s few minutes before he begins to wake, starting off with quiet whimpers in his sleep before moaning and groaning loudly, pushing his arse back against my face before he woke up fully, startled from the intrusion but reaching down to grab my hands and relaxing as he recognised the familiarity. 

“Oh shit, w-what are you-..” he whines, digging his fingertips into my wrist as he pushes back against my face. I reach around to grip his cock, letting my thumb swirl around the tip, leaking profusely and growing impossibly harder in my hand with every stroke of my tongue to his sensitive area. I use my free hand to poke my index finger at his slick opening, sliding past his walls with ease and driving itself in and out, alternating with my tongue as he begins to unravel above me, burying his muffled moans into the crease of his elbow but not doing the best job in keeping quiet. 

 

I curled my fingers until I brushed his prostate, obvious from the way his whole body jolted and he cried out desperately. I relentlessly teased him, stroking his sweet bundle of nerves until he was trembling beneath me and begging for release before flipping him over roughly and pinning his hips to the ground as I finished him off, my eyes flickering shut as he paints the inside of my mouth. I barely react as he pulls me up his body, cradling my head in his hands as he pulls my face into his neck - I am boneless and weak, the exhaustion finally overpowering my need for contact and within seconds my soft snores are evening out in the thick air and I fall asleep with his arms wrapped protectively around my sweat-sticky body. 

It’s a quiet evening in the third-quarter of the year when he tells me he’s going home with me. He says that once our service is up and we’re dismissed from the ranks we’ll set up home together, that all of this will be just memories and we can have a decent chance at a life outside the battlefield. It’s the first time I’ve genuinely smiled in the best part of a decade, it fills my entire being with hope and ambition. He breaks the code, whispering his birth name quietly over the thick silence of the desert and I don’t hesitate to tell him mine, ignoring everything I’ve been taught to just share this moment with him, its ours and it’s set in a quiet corner of my mind as one of my best memories. 

I roll his name around my tongue, like a deadly secret kept firmly behind my lips - only revealed when we’re alone, never slipped out in front of any other being. 

Aaron… Aaron… Aaron… _Aaron!_ …

He’s gone by the fourth-quarter. 

Body mangled and charred from the deadly rays of a mod neither of us had seen coming. I watched the life drain from his eyes and his skin desaturate before he convulsed and never regained consciousness. One of the youngsters - thirty-two with a keen sight - blew the head off the enemy within seconds as I dropped to my knees and willed myself not to cry over the remains of my best friend, soul-mate, future. The lads let me have a quiet moment, they don’t ask and it’s probably because they already knew that this man had half of my heart and I, his. He’s buried in an unmarked grave, it’s standard procedure so that any remaining mods don’t locate the body and begin to harvest his organs and any other remains. They’ve done it before but apart from it feeling disrespectful and wrong, it would completely break me to know they’d tampered with his final resting place. 

By the time we reach the final leg of the desert it’s fourth-quarter again and it’s been a year since I lost him. We’ve had new recruits since then and the original crew have either been discharged or killed, I don’t have a reason to leave now - no future to go home to and so I stay when they all change over. I feel colder, more hardened since his death - like all the life has gone from my eyes and my heart is a stone, it’s clear in the way the lads look at me that I don’t have the care that I used to, there’s no passion - it’s just a job, a duty. There’s a bright-eyed blonde who transferred a month ago, he’s constantly at my side like my own personal shadow and if I hadn’t had my heart ripped in two I might have been a bit more interested but he seems oblivious to my nonchalance. 

He’s taken to partnering up with me on my night-watch, it reminds me of twenty-six but I never mention it, just let the new lad ramble on about anything he wants and feign interest. It’s when he asks my birth-name that I’m thrown, it’s nostalgic and something warms inside me as I remember the moment we shared a little more than a year ago. But then I’m reminded that I lost him and I couldn’t save him and if I’d only paid more attention maybe he wouldn’t be lying in an unmarked grave and instead we’d be setting up home together. My heart grows impossibly colder as my eyes flick up at the expectant blonde, muttering my response with no emotion

“That’s on a need to know basis, and you don’t need to know.”


End file.
